"Wot do you expect for wot you're payin'—brass banns and banners?"
"I don't expect impertinence from you!" cried Mavis.
"Imperence! imperence! And oo's Mrs Kenrick to give 'erself such airs! And before my Oscar too!"
"Listen to me," said Mavis.
"I wonder you don't send for your 'usband to go for me."
"But—"
"Your lovin' 'usband wot's in Ameriky a-making a snug little 'ome for you."
Mavis was, for the moment, vanquished by the adroitness of Mrs Gowler's thrust.
"I'm not well enough to quarrel. Please to show me my room."
"That's better. An' I'll be pleased to show you what you call 'my room' when I've given my Oscar 'is supper," shouted Mrs Gowler, as she sailed into the kitchen, followed by her gibbering son, who twice turned to stare at Mavis.